


When You Came Calling

by ActuallyMe



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, F/F, Hordak dies and he's the only one that dies, Imagine a 1940's Etheria AU, Private Eye!Catra, Trophy Wife!Adora, that's what this is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 17:48:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17228522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ActuallyMe/pseuds/ActuallyMe
Summary: Private Eye Catra of the Horde mob remembers the day she lost her fiancee in detail, so when Adora shows up in her office, she's not too happy about it.  In another life, they were lovers.  In this one, they're two angry women with nothing left to lose but their lives.OrThe Mob!AU that literally one person asked for.





	When You Came Calling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [touzen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/touzen/gifts).



> Thank you to the lovely Touzen for inspiring me, and thank you to the lovely drunkforestnymph for catching all my silly little mistakes.

When Adora walks into her office dripping with jewels and wrapped in fur, Catra shouldn’t be too surprised, even as her breath catches at the sight of her. _Marriage to Hordak suits her,_ she thinks, rejecting the thought as soon as it enters her head. She knows how much Adora didn’t want to marry the mob boss, but what Hector Hordak wants, Hector Hordak gets. 

What she says instead is, “Oh. It’s you.” How she manages this level of blase is beyond her, but she thanks her lucky stars that the indifference shines through. She is anything but indifferent, but she doesn’t want to get Adora killed. More importantly, Catra doesn’t want to get herself killed.

It was Catra’s idea, really, the not talking arrangement. Once Hordak decided he wanted to marry her _everything,_ there was nothing she or Adora could have done. She couldn’t just say no to the biggest mob boss this side of Etheria, especially not when he’d already threatened her family’s safety. Catra had thought it best to cut ties; anything else would have hurt too much. Still, that didn’t stop Adora from trying to call her, from writing her letters, sending her small gifts to remind Catra that she hadn’t forgotten the life she’d been forced to leave behind.

Catra resents those reminders, resents the dreams that force her to recall Adora’s kiss, her touch, her cries of pleasure. The way her skin flushes when she wants something, the determination in her eyes. Stars, how she aches for Adora again. Seeing her now throws a wrench in the careful construction of Catra’s indifference. Smelling Hordak’s scent all over her makes Catra sick.

Ugh, all she wants to do is move on with her life, thank you very much; what the hell is Adora even doing here? She doesn’t need to ask, though, because Adora tells her without any prompting.

“Shadow Weaver sent me,” she manages before she breaks down into little hitching sobs. Catra’s heart goes soft at the sight. The only time she’s ever seen Adora cry was the night Hordak told her he was going to marry her. Something must be really wrong.

Catra doesn’t know what to do with herself. There’s a gulf between them, one that isn’t entirely her fault but for which she feels responsibility anyway. She pushes a box of tissues toward Adora. There, that will have to do for comfort. It’s all Catra can offer, anyway.

“So, why’d Shadow Weaver send you? I thought I made it clear, Adora. We can’t be seen toge -”

Adora interrupts her, watery blue eyes piercing. “She Ra. She killed Hector.”

For a moment, there’s silence between them, Adora’s eyes watching Catra with something she can’t discern, and then it clicks. Catra’s expression twists into something like disdain.

“This is a shitty joke, Adora. If you wanted to come see me, all you had to do was…” she doesn’t know how to finish that sentence. Adora has literally done everything in her power to reconcile with Catra. Even so, this is just low, lying about Shadow Weaver and getting her hopes up about Hordak. As if she hasn’t been quietly hoping for his death since he took Adora away. “Besides, everyone knows that She Ra is a myth. There’s an assassin, alright, but no one actually believes in an eight-foot-tall woman brandishing a fucking sword, sweetheart.” The endearment slips from her lips too easily, but at least it sounds like poison.

Adora seems taken aback, even puts a delicate hand against her collarbone. Her left hand. The one with that ostentatious wedding band that doesn’t suit her at all, that Catra wants to rip off of her finger. “You think this is a trick?” Her voice is low and sad, and that’s when it hits Catra.

Hordak is dead. Hordak is dead, and Adora is free. 

The thought makes her feel dizzy. Adora is here, in front of her, free from Hordak. Catra stands, walks over from behind the desk, her hand up and claws retracted as if to caress Adora’s face; her tail twitching to wind around her former lover. Then, reality slams into her and her arm drops. Hordak is dead, and someone is going to have to pay. The words are out of her mouth before she realizes. 

“The spouse is always the primary suspect. Adora, I have to ask -”

“It wasn’t me.”

“Adora if it was, I can get you out of here. We can go away, and we never have to come back. Eternia will take us, hell, even the Rebellion will take us if you’ve killed him.” Catra can’t help the desperation edging into her voice.

Adora’s eyes so blank like they did the day of her wedding. “I’m in the clear. Someone saw She Ra sneaking out this morning. When I got home, I found him. I found him, they’d cut off his - that’s where - that’s where he was killed.”

Catra doesn’t know what she’s supposed to say, so she asks a question she has no right to ask.

“Do you- did you love him?”

“No.” The answer is soft. “I became fond of him in some ways; I had to, to survive, but I never loved him. Catra, you’re the only one I’ve ever -”

“Don’t go there, Adora. Not now.” Then, “I’m guessing Shadow Weaver wants me to investigate.”

“Yes.”

“Alright. Let’s get you home. I’ll do my investigation and then we’ll get the place cleaned up so you can sleep.”

\--

They take Adora’s car. It’s black and stinks of new leather, but Catra doesn’t mind the smell as much as she minds the steady, unflinching gaze of the chauffeur. Her short pink and lavender hair reminds Catra of something, but she can’t recall what. Maybe she’s just always been a Horde employee. That would explain it.

“Glimmer, please take me home.” Adora’s voice is imperiously polite. She expects to be obeyed, and that’s new.

“Yes ma’am,” Glimmer says. 

Adora reaches for her hand as the car starts to move from the curb but Catra pulls it away, eyes pointing toward Glimmer.

Adora shrugs. “Glimmer is loyal to me, not the Horde.”

Catra raises an eyebrow. “Aren’t you one and the same now?” 

Adora shakes her head. “Hector will have left Beatrice in charge, once the will is read, whenever that is. He wanted me, Catra, but he didn’t love me either. Or trust me, for that matter.”

Catra doesn’t know what to say to that, but the sick feeling is back in her gut when she imagines this man, old enough to be her father, desiring Adora so much he ripped her away from her life, but not even pretending to love her. 

“What’s your alibi?” She blurts, anything to banish the image of Adora being forced to touch that man.

Adora flushes a deep red. “You’re going to laugh. I’ve become a little frivolous since we last spoke.”

“Try me.”

“I was at the Bright Moon Jewellers.”

Catra does laugh, but not because she finds it funny. “I’m guessing that the clerk will remember you?”

“He should. He sold me this.” Adora retrieves a box from within her coat and displays the contents to Catra. It’s a large sapphire, larger than any Catra’s ever seen in person before, on a diamond-encrusted chain.

“Fuck. Geez, Adora, I know Hordak is loaded, but really? I never thought he could buy you out.” She wants to retract the words as soon as she says them, but it’s too late. 

Adora looks hurt, and she snaps back, “I never asked for any of this, Catra. I could either sit there and let Hector use me and be miserable about it the whole time, or I could play along and get something out of it. You’d know this, know how hard this has all been for me if you’d actually responded to my phone calls or letters.” She tucks the box back into her coat.

“And remind myself of how I lost you? My lover? My _partner?_ We were engaged, Adora. We were going to be married, and I lost you to some jerk who could make you marry him just because he had money and guns. No thanks; I’m good.”

“Did it ever occur to you that I lost you, too? I loved you. I loved you, Catra, and you just cut me out for something that wasn’t even my fault! I never wanted this; screw you for acting like I did! I was the one who wanted to run away to begin with, and you told me we had to stay, to face this. So I did. I did, and I lost my best friend.”

Catra wants to yell, to rail against Adora, but what can she say? Adora is right. She’d been thrown to the wolves, and Catra abandoned her. For what? It’s been three fucking years, and Catra still regrets choosing familiarity over Adora. 

“We didn’t have the money to run away, Adora.”

“We could have made it work!” Adora’s voice has raised in pitch and Catra has forgotten about the chauffeur’s presence for the moment.

“How, Adora?”

Adora’s shoulders slump and she whispers, “we could have run away to the rebellion. We could’ve gone to Eternia, like you said when you thought I’d killed him.”

Catra scoffs, but her heart’s not in it. “That’s only because I thought you were in danger. I couldn’t… I wanted - want - you to be safe. We wouldn’t have been safe with the rebellion, not with him out there.”

“You think I was safe with Hector?” Adora’s incredulous. Catra can’t blame her.

“No. Not really. But maybe safer than switching sides? I don’t know.” She huffs, is contemplating apologizing, but they’ve reached their destination. The chauffeur opens the door, and they are let out to Adora’s front lawn.

Catra surveys the scene. The coroner’s car is here, and so is a squad car. Ah, yes. Her buddies at the FZPD. Cops here in the Fright Zone have always been in the Horde’s pockets, but she guesses she’s no better, being on Hordak’s private bankroll and all.

“Hey, Lonnie.” She waves half-heartedly to the police detective. Of course, fucking Lonnie would be here.

“What are you doing here, Catra?”

“Shadow Weaver asked me to help. So did Adora.” Catra smiles slyly at Lonnie’s suddenly straightened back.

“Ma’am, you don’t wanna go in there,” Lonnie cautions, and Adora puts a hand up. There’s that expectation of being obeyed, again. Catra doesn’t know how to feel about that.

“He was my husband, Detective, and this is my home. I have a right to go inside.”

 

“All due respect, ma’am, you don’t. This is a murder scene, and we don’t want you to contaminate the evidence any more than you already have.”

“Adora.” There’s a voice like malice, dripping into the room, insinuating itself into their ears. Shadow Weaver, the woman who raised Catra. That bitch has always had her claws in Adora, and Catra tenses at the way Adora’s baby blues go blank again.

“Hello, Beatrice.” Adora’s voice sounds flat; she sounds nothing like the vivacious spitfire who defended herself against Catra in the car. It scares her. Still, she is on first name terms with Shadow Weaver, which isn’t that odd considering that they’re in-laws.

“Adora, dear, don’t you think it’s a good idea to let these fine people do their job? We want to catch the person who did this, don’t we?”

Adora nods and allows herself to be lead to a bench outside the building.

In the meantime, Catra ducks under the police tape and inspects the door. Welp, forced entry, so that’s one thing, but how did the killer manage to break the locks like this without attracting any attention? It’s a weird one for sure. She opens the door and walks inside, retrieving her tattered notebook from her breast pocket and following the police officers into the bowels of the house: Hordak and Adora’s bedroom.

On the floor lies Hordak’s body. Five feet away from it rests his head, cleanly chopped off. It’s too clean. 

There’s blood, but that’s to be expected. Still, Catra had thought it would be less grisly. She’s seen a lot of hits in her day, but this one might take the cake. It feels impersonal, and nothing has been stolen. Maybe there’s something to be said about a magical woman with a sword avenging the Fright Zone’s victims.

“Catra!” A mousy young detective that she knows from her childhood startles. “Oh, Lonnie’s not gonna like you being here.”

Catra smirks. “Shadow Weaver invited me, Kyle, and Lonnie already knows. Nothing to worry about. So tell me, what’s it look like to you?”

“Uh, a hit? We sure it isn’t the Mrs though? I mean, not that she is capable of actually, you know, doing this, but maybe she called the hit?”

Catra shoots him a look. “You really think that Hordak didn’t control her pursestrings? Adora doesn’t have the kind of money to hire someone for this.”

Kyle’s shoulders go up and down. “Yeah, you’re right. We have to ask, though. Besides, She Ra is a vigilante type of person anyways.”

“We sure it’s her?” Catra still isn’t convinced.

“Yeah. The chauffeur’s mother saw her climb out the window. She had a sword or something? You should ask Lonnie, I didn’t actually talk to her.”

Catra nods. 

\--

“I’m talking to Angella with you.” Adora says once Catra explains where she’s going. Shadow Weaver has disappeared to gods-know-where, and the police have mostly left.

“That’s not professional, Adora.” Catra’s tail flicks across Adora’s wrist affectionately. Fuck. She hadn’t meant to do that.

Adora scowls, her hands on her hips. “Catra, what about this is professional. My ex-lover is investigating my husband’s murder.” She smiles faintly. “Might as well go all in.”

Catra hesitates, then remembers she doesn’t actually care about Hordak being dead, beyond the whole being paid to investigate it thing. “Okay. Sure, why not?”

Adora smiles, and leans in too close, her face inches from Catra’s. “Thank you,” she whispers, before she pulls away like she’s suddenly remembered herself. They walk to the chauffeur’s cottage, hands brushing each other, and Catra wonders what they’re doing. Falling into their old patterns is easy, too easy. Adora may be free from Hordak, but that doesn’t mean she’s free to love Catra. Still, Catra allows herself to imagine this world. It’s a nice one.

Angella greets them at the entrance of her home. “I’ve been expecting you,” she says in an Eternian accent. 

Catra introduces herself, but Angella ignores her to swoop Adora into an embrace. “You poor dear, losing your husband like that. Come inside, I’ll make you a nice cup of tea.”

Catra follows stupidly. Of course, Adora would make friends with the servants and their families. She always was a people-pleaser.

“Excuse me, ma’am, but I have a few questions -”

“Tea first. Then you can ask me whatever you like. This poor girl has been through a shock, haven’t you, love.” She ushers them inside with her swooping hands and makes them sit.

Catra makes faces at Adora and Adora struggles to keep her face composed in this woman’s dining room. There are pictures of the chauffeur all over the place, as well as a dark-skinned man in a smart suit. He doesn’t look related, but he looks familiar as well. Where has she seen these two? 

“Now, dear. What were your questions?” A steaming mug of tea, complete with milk, startles her out of her contemplation.

“Tell me what you saw, ma’am.”

“Well, it was so quick. A large blonde woman with a, well, a sword of all things. She was slipping out of a window. I didn’t think much of it, thought it must just be a new gardener fixing the vines, not climbing out the window, with shears that I was mistaking as a sword. The alternative seemed so ridiculous; everyone knows that She Ra doesn’t really exist, and it was far enough away...”

“What did she look like?”

“Well, big. She was tall and muscular, and her hair was a shock of platinum blonde like you’d see in one of those new color pictures. Oh, and she was wearing all white, which I thought was odd for a gardener. When I tried to greet her, she ran off, and that’s when Mrs. Hordak came home.”

Catra nods. Something isn’t adding up. She doesn’t know what it is, yet, but she drinks her tea and thanks Angella.

\--

Shadow Weaver has offered to let Adora stay with her for the evening while the police officers continue to investigate. The body has been taken to the coroner’s office where the cause of death has been confirmed as a beheading, and Adora isn’t allowed into the house yet.

Catra, despite her better judgment, makes a counteroffer. “I live above my office, but it’s a nice little apartment. You can sleep on the couch?”

Adora pulls her into their first embrace in years. “Thank you,” she breathes against Catra’s ear, squeezing her just a little bit tighter before she lets go.

The daze that settles over Catra after that is too much. She has been so careful not to get too close to Adora, but here she comes, knocking down all of Catra’s walls. She reminds herself that this is a bad idea, that having Adora in her apartment - because it’s not a home, she hasn’t really had a home since Hordak took Adora away from her - will lead to some serious revelations. At this point, though, Catra can’t muster the energy to give a shit. Spending the day with Adora has reminded her of how much fun they used to have, and that even if they can’t be together, she has been stupid in letting their friendship die. No one is this easy to be with, to fight with, to love.

Dangerous territory.

“Scorpia has started some pasta puttanesca. That alright?” Catra shouts from the kitchen.

“Anything will do.” Adora walks into the kitchen in her navy blue dress. “Would you like some help?”

“You’re a disaster-chef, Adora. I wouldn’t let you near my stove for a million bucks.”

“Not anymore.” Her voice is soft again. “I learned how to be a good wife.” There’s something dangerous in the undercurrent of her voice; the implication is clear. She means that she had to learn how to be the kind of wife Hordak expected.

“Sit down, babe. I’ve got this.” Catra brandishes a wooden spoon to release the tension in the air, and Adora cracks a smile.

“At least let me help with the washing up.”

“Fine. But don’t chip my plates.”

Adora laughs, plunging her hands into the dishwater. “I haven’t done this in so long. It’s almost nostalgic.”

Catra takes the dish towel off her shoulder and snaps it against Adora’s backside. She yelps and bursts into laughter. “What was that for?”

Catra smiles. “Because I could.”

Adora is suddenly behind her, her arms wrapped around Catra’s waist and her head resting on her shoulder. “I missed you.”

Catra swallows around the lump in her throat. “I missed you, too,” she says. “C’mon, Adora we can’t be doing this.”

“Why not?”

Why not indeed. Catra isn’t sure who would be spying on them in her own flat, she only lives with her business partner Scorpia, who can be trusted with a secret, but she knows that if she lets Adora in now, she won’t have it in her to turn her away again.

“Because it hurts too much.”

Adora lets her go with a sigh. “I’m sorry. I just, I find myself wanting to get back into old habits with you.” 

“Me, too.” Catra’s voice is hoarse, but she’s saved from her emotions when the timer goes off. “The pasta sauce will be ready soon,” she says. “ You can put the kettle on and cook the spaghetti for me.”

“Yes ma’am,” Adora quips, bumping her hip against Catra’s. It’s like old times again, and at some point, Catra starts singing. Adora joins in, harmonizing, the soprano to her alto. It’s so nice, so comforting. It feels like home.

\--

Catra sits up in bed, her heart hammering. There’s someone in her bedroom. Someone rustling and hesitant, and she’s woken up too quickly to remember the events of the day. Her eyes focus, and she finds a figure in a white nightgown standing before her. Adora? It looks like her, it smells like her, but it must be a ghost because Adora is with Hordak.

She hears an intake of breath and Adora’s strained voice. “I’m afraid.” Oh, that’s right. Hordak is dead, and Adora is supposed to be sleeping in her living room.

“Of what?”

“Can I get into bed with you? I had a nightmare, and I’m not used to sleeping by myself.”

Catra hesitates for a moment. Fuck it. “Come on,” she says, lifting up her comforter.” Adora’s skin is cold when she slips into Catra’s bed, leeching the warmth off of her. Still, the weight is familiar, and Catra can’t help but feel like this is where Adora should be, even if the silk nightgown rubbing against her arm is new. “What was your nightmare about?” She asks once Adora has settled.

“I dreamed that I ran away and Hordak had you killed because of me.”

A beat of silence.

“Son of a bitch.”

“It was bad. I needed to see you.” Adora shifts closer to Catra.

“You never used to get nightmares.” Catra rearranges herself so that her hand rests on Adora’s cheek. She’s retracted her claws again.

She feels more than sees Adora’s sad smile. “I’ve changed in a lot of ways. I’m not the same person I was three years ago.”

Catra sighs. “I don’t think either of us are.”

Another beat of silence.

“Catra? Did you miss me? Did you think of me?”

 _That’s a stupid question,_ Catra thinks. “Of course I did, dummy,” she says.

Adora is quiet, and for a moment, Catra thinks she’s fallen back asleep. Then, “Why did you just stop talking to me? I thought the world had turned its back on me. This all would have been more bearable if I’d been able to see you. Just like this, just holding you, just innocent.”

Catra hasn’t realized, but her hand is stroking Adora’s cheek in an effort to calm her. “There’s nothing innocent about this, Adora.”

“What do you mean?”

Catra doesn’t respond with words, just finds Adora’s lips in the dark and traces them with her finger. Adora’s body responds; her heartbeat accelerates, and her legs rub together. A small gasp escapes against Catra’s finger.

“See?” Catra says, before making the first of a series of bad decisions, leaning forward and kissing Adora. Adora’s perfume may be different, but underneath it all, she still smells like herself. Adora’s arm comes up to wrap around Catra’s neck, pulling her closer. Stars, this is so wrong. Adora is a widow, and she’s in shock. This is risky, but Catra can’t find it in herself to care.

“Catra,” Adora sighs, and Catra melts. The kiss is gentle, sweet, almost romantic if not for the undercurrent of danger. Catra pushes past that feeling and kisses her harder, nipping against Adora’s lips as she braces herself on her arm.

“I missed you,” she says, her teeth worrying at Adora’s bottom lip. Adora cries out in pleasure and Catra stops.

“What? Don’t stop, please.”

Catra shakes her head. “The walls are paper thin and my neighbors are loyal to the Horde. You need to be quiet.”

Adora nods solemnly. “I’ll be quiet.”

Catra’s smile turns wicked before she ignores Adora’s lips to favor her pretty throat. Adora strangles her moans, and Catra can’t help herself, biting hard against Adora’s neck, but not hard enough to break the skin. 

She’s missed this. 

Catra’s hand ghosts under the covers, over Adora’s nightgown until she finds her prize: Adora’s nipple. It’s an old dance they’ve not yet forgotten the choreography to, and Catra is rewarded with a gasp that’s just on the wrong side of loud when she pinches softly.

“I thought you said you were going to be quiet,” Catra teases.

“It’s hard when you’re touching me like that!” Adora pushes her just a little bit but then pulls her back for another kiss. “Don’t stop. I’ll be quiet.”

“Mmhmm, sure you will.” She pulls and bunches up the fabric of the nightgown around Adora’s neck, licking at her nipples and pinching until Adora whines. The sound goes straight through her. “So much for being quiet. Maybe we should stop?”

“Catra!” She pouts, shaking her head. “I want to - unless… do you _want_ to stop?” Adora’s voice hesitates like she’s unsure for the first time tonight.

“I’m just teasin’, Adora. Take that off. It’s in my way.”

Adora obliges and the silk nightgown is off in moments.

Catra smirks. Her hand skims over Adora’s hips. _Did Adora plan this?_ She wonders. It’s a cold night and her little nightgown isn’t very practical for this weather. Neither are those panties, all pink lace, and cotton. Still, it’s practical for this, for the way Catra’s hand dips between her legs, pushing away the lacy underwear to find her wet core. It’s deliciously easy to coat her fingers in Adora’s slick, to let her fingers circle her entrance. Adora is trying so hard to be quiet, she’s holding her breath.

“Breathe, baby.”

“Mmm,” Adora hums as she opens her legs wider and pulls on Catra’s shirt. “I’ve missed you,” she murmurs, pushing their foreheads together. At that, Catra slips a finger inside, and it’s so easy that she adds another. Adora’s shaking, her breaths stuttering as Catra holds her. Her fingers curl inside of her and her thumb finds her clit. 

“Catra, Catra I -” but she can’t finish because Catra rubs harder. She hasn’t forgotten what Adora likes, hasn’t forgotten how much she desires her. It feels like coming home when Adora’s walls clench around her fingers, when she tightens and Catra can see her eyes rolling back, can feel her hands gripping Catra’s arms. When she comes undone, all Catra wants to do is kiss her soundly and make her scream. 

Adora pants as Catra draws the last of her orgasm out of her, collapsing back on to the bed. Then Catra withdraws her fingers, regarding them for just a moment before she deliberately gazes into Adora’s eyes and licks them clean.

Adora laughs, breathless. “Stars, Catra. That was better than I remembered.”

Catra raises an eyebrow. “Yeah? Maybe I’m just that good.”

Adora laughs, shimmies closer, and tells her “I’d like to reciprocate.”

Suddenly, Catra’s nerves catch up with her. She’s imagined this for too long, and while she really wants to let Adora touch her, she isn’t sure - _oh for fuck's sake, we’re already screwed if anyone finds out. Might as well enjoy myself,_ she thinks before she smiles lazily down at her lover. “What’d you have in mind?”

Adora’s demeanor changes and she lifts herself up on her strong arms. “Lie back. Let me make you feel good.”

Catra nods enthusiastically, removing her long bed shirt in a sweeping motion. She’s already wet and aching, but Adora takes her time kissing her, putting her knee insistently between her legs, moving her mouth toward her dark nipples. Catra almost keens at that, but manages to keep her wits as Adora licks and scrapes her teeth against her skin. Then her mouth is moving ever downward, open-mouthed kisses trailing toward her wet heat.

“Adora,” she whines. It feels good; it feels like fire everywhere Adora’s mouth has been. She doesn’t know what to do with her hands, but they find their way to Adora’s loose waves and she clutches at her hair. She guides Adora’s mouth to where she needs her most, and when her tongue strikes at Catra’s clit, Catra’s pretty sure she dies. She must have died and gone to heaven to have Adora making those pretty noises against her pussy. Catra knows her toes are curling, knows there’ll be tears in the sheets in the morning, but she doesn’t _care._ Adora is here, and she’s eating her like her life depends on it, and it feels so good that Catra wants to sob.

Catra doesn’t know how long it takes her to find release, but Adora is patient and her stamina is to be commended. Catra feels herself gush and her clit throb. She pulls Adora head back to her mouth, kisses her deeply, tastes herself. There’s salt on her tongue, and it takes Adora pointing it out for her to realize that she’s crying.

\--

When she wakes in the morning, Adora has already showered and is making breakfast. Catra stands and throws on her nightshirt before striding into her small kitchen.

“Hey Adora,” she purrs, and Adora looks at her with a tight smile. 

“Catra, we need to talk. Um. You should sit.”

Catra’s heart drops into her stomach, and the toast and eggs in front of her don’t look so appetizing as they did a moment ago. Still, she obeys, leaning back in the chair. “What’s up?” She asks.

Adora chews on her lip before sitting down gracefully. She doesn’t touch her food, either. “I’m She Ra.”

Catra snorts. “Yeah, and I bet you’re going to tell me you’re the one who killed Hordak.”

Adora looks at her with an expression Catra can’t place. “I did.”

Catra stands, digging her claws into her palms. Adora has gone crazy. 

“You don’t believe me.”

“No shit I don’t believe you. You have an alibi, the cops sent someone to Bright Moon Jeweller’s yesterday to make sure it all checked out.”

Adora shakes her head. “Bright Moon Jeweller’s is a front for the rebellion. Bow and Glimmer and Angella, they’re all rebels. They’re all my people.”

Suddenly, Catra knows where she has seen the chauffeur. She and her friend have been hanging around her office. They’ve been spying on her. Catra is pacing now, her claws tearing up her palms. “Why are you telling me this? You know I work for the Horde. You know the Fright Zone is my home.”

“It doesn’t have to be, Catra. We can go. We can go far away and never have to come back. I’ve proven my loyalty to them a hundred times over, and I can’t stay here. There’s nothing for me here, only you.”

“Power, Adora. You could take it from Shadow Weaver, you could change things. Please don’t go. Not again.”

Adora is looking at her food. “Catra, I can’t stay in that house. It’s where he - I can’t stay there. I can’t pretend to be something I’m not, some sort of trophy to show off. If I stay, people will expect me to marry someone else again. At least this way, you and I have a chance. Please. Please, trust me. If you ever loved me, if there’s any hope for us, you need to come with me.”

Catra does not like ultimatums, and it feels like that’s what this is. Still, the last time she didn’t trust Adora, she lost her.

“Let me think about it,” she says, and the relief on Adora’s face is palpable. She comes over to where Catra is standing, lets her hand linger on her arm, and kisses her cheek.

“Okay.”

\--

By the end of the day, Catra has made her decision.

“When do we go?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, and please comment if you enjoyed! Or if you didn't; I'm always open to constructive criticism.


End file.
